After the Rain (The Callahans) (11 page)

“Never mind,” Kylie said, walking past her and outside to the front porch. She looked around and sighed in relief when she saw that Trey’s police SUV was still parked in front of the house. So where was he?

After a moment, she realized the guesthouse door was open. She headed down the steps and across the yard. The first thing she noticed when she crossed the threshold was that the place was bare. There were no pictures. There was no colorful paint on the wall. There were a few pieces of old brown furniture and a television set. Other than that, there was nothing.

“I haven’t had much time to think about decorating.”

His voice carried across the room and she looked to the kitchen, where he leaned against the doorway, his arms folded over his broad chest. Her heart stopped as she stared at him, intently. How could a man look so good in jeans and a T-shirt? And the gun was starting to grow on her. There was something masculine about him when he was working. Something almost….sexy.

“Want a sandwich?”

She snapped out of her trance, shaking her head. “I didn’t know you were home.”

“Just came home for lunch.” He stared at her a moment longer, then turned and headed for the refrigerator.

“I didn’t call him,” she said, for lack of anything better. Then she could have kicked herself. Maybe he hadn’t thought that in the first place. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed it was Paul she’d been talking to.

“Uh huh,” he said, nonchalantly. “Sure you don’t want a sandwich, I’ve got turkey?”

She didn’t know whether he was brushing her off or just very calm. She didn’t like it when he was like this. “I told him not to call me again.”

“You told him not to call
here
again,” he corrected, slapping some turkey onto a slice of bread. “Does that mean you talk to him on other phones?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I haven’t talked to him at all since I left Montana, Trey. I swear it.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Kylie. Just forget it.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad. I have no reason to be.”

That confused her and she was at a loss for words. He was emotionally closed off, that was for sure. Likely, this came from his experiences with his ex-wife. Taking a bold step, she walked into the kitchen and stood directly behind him. For the first time since they’d met, she reached up and initiated contact. Her hand rested against his hip. She stepped closer and leaned her head against his back, hearing him intake a breath. She was relieved that she could get a reaction out of him. “I’m not interested in Paul. What do I have to do to prove that to you?”

He turned suddenly and they were face to face. Those blue eyes studied hers for several long moments. Then he reached up and ran a finger over her lips. “I don’t like him calling you.”

“I don’t like it either,” she said. “He won’t call again.”

She waited as he leaned toward her, his purpose clear. His mouth covered hers and this time he wasn’t so gentle. His tongue immediately moved into her mouth and melted with hers. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her into the cradle of his thighs. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel completely scared. She felt….tingly—all over. She leaned into him, desperate to get closer. His hands were on her hips, pulling her more intimately against him. He lifted her suddenly, turning and placing her on the counter in front of him. Swiping his sandwich materials aside, he settled comfortably between her thighs.

“Okay?” he asked, pulling her toward him, when she inched back. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“I know.” Anxiety reared its ugly head, but still she forced herself to relax. She liked the feeling of his fingers in her hair, against her skin. It made her feel warm all over. His mouth covered hers again. She was more than comfortable with the kissing so she let herself give back as he gave.

“You smell good,” he said, a moment later, his mouth against her neck.

“So do you.” She shut her eyes, feeling his tongue slide just on the underside of her ear. His breath feathered her skin and she shuddered. This was all moving so fast and yet too slow.

“We should stop,” he finally said against her skin. “Or I might not make it back to work.” He lifted his head and looked into her face. “You could come over tonight. I’ll make you dinner and we can watch a movie or something.”

“Okay,” she agreed, before she had time to think about it. “But you don’t cook.”

“I make a mean pancake,” he said, and she could feel him smiling against her neck.

“Or we could get take out.”

“We could.”

“Or we could just not eat at all,” she suggested, when his teeth found a sensitive spot and nibbled at her. She let her hands tangle in the short strands of his hair.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go back to work.”

She smiled at that. “You wouldn’t get fired, would you?”

“Nah. The mayor’s too busy to care what I’m doing.” He lifted his head, amusement in his blue eyes. “But Dusty and Faye would be over here in a minute, if that door shut and the Blazer stayed where it was.” Letting out a breath, he straightened, rubbing his nose against hers softly. “In case you’re wondering, I really like you, Montana.”

Her stomach flipped around nervously. “I like you too.”

“So, you know that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not going anywhere.”

She felt her cheeks warm and tried to look away from him but his fingers gripped her chin. “I’m serious, Kylie. I can wait as long as it takes for you to be comfortable—for you to want it too. Your ex-boyfriend is a dick.”

He was right. Still, the embarrassment ate at her. “I do want it.”

He smiled at that. “That’s good to know. I can wait though.” He tipped her chin again, so she was forced to look at him. “I can wait.” He repeated the words, his eyes scanning hers, intently.

Before she could overthink it, she pulled him toward her and wrapped her arms around his neck. For the first time in her life, Kylie felt safe in a man’s arms.

“So come over tonight when you see my Blazer. I’ll have something edible and a couple movies.” He slowly backed away from her, helping her slide down from the counter. Once her feet were on the ground again, he pulled her close to him. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He leaned down and gave her one last kiss on the mouth.

When she returned to the house, Dusty and Faye were still sitting at the kitchen table, mulling over samples. They both looked up, their expressions filled with interest. “You sure dashed off quickly,” Faye remarked, turning back to the table.

“I didn’t. I just had something I needed to do.”

“He was cheated on, Kyle. That’s why he wears emotions like that on his sleeve.”

“Faye—” Dusty began.

“No, she needs to know. As worried as I am about her getting hurt, I’m also concerned about Trey. He’s a good guy. His ex was a loser. She cheated on him. He found her in bed with another guy.”

“Wow,” was all Kylie could say. “He doesn’t talk about her much. Just little bits and pieces here and there.”

“Trey’s like that,” Dusty finally said, obviously uncomfortable butting into his brother’s business. “He and Shayna dated through high school. He got away from her for a year when he went to college but then he dropped out and came back here. Of course, she was waiting with open arms. He joined the academy. He was planning to stay around here but Shayna craved excitement. She wanted to be a model.”

“She wanted the high life and thought that if they moved to L.A. they would eventually get it,” Faye continued. “She was a bitch. I knew it the first time I saw her.”

“All the same,” Dusty said, shooting her a look. “Things didn’t work out. Shayna didn’t become the next runway sensation and Trey didn’t want the high life. He was just a cop, wanting to right the wrongs in the world. They didn’t mix after about six months. She fought him tooth and nail on everything from where they lived, to what kind of house, to whether or not they should have kids. Thank God for her vanity on that one.” Dusty blew out a breath. “My brother’s a little bit of a brooder, Kylie. You should know that. I’m not trying to butt in, but I can see you like him and he likes you. You have to be able to understand Trey, to deal with him.”

“I do understand him. At least I think I do.”

“Does he understand you?” Faye wanted to know.

Kylie shrugged and nodded. “Better than any other man ever has.”

Dusty smiled at that. “Lay off, Faye. Trey’s a good guy.”

“I know that.” Faye was quiet a moment. “I was hoping maybe the two of you would get together. I would have worked harder to set it up if I’d have known how easy it would be.”

“It wouldn’t have worked if you had forced it,” Dusty reasoned. “Now can we please pick out a damned invitation? This is on my last nerve.”

“Just so you know,” Kylie added. “I’m going to paint faces at the carnival.”

Faye’s face popped a smile. “That’s great.”

“It should be fun.” Kylie turned and walked from the room, knowing her friends were exchanging satisfied glances.

13

Trey didn’t make it into the driveway until well after seven that night. As he pulled up, his phone began to ring and he cursed. He’d had a long day and wasn’t in the mood for anything else at that point. A domestic dispute across town, involving grocery owner Harry Townsend and his wife had taken up four hours of his day. He’d had to haul Helen in after she had attacked her husband right in front of him, over whether or not he was bagging more than Ellen Rathford’s groceries.

After that, he’d tackled the pile of paperwork taking residence on his desk, before being interrupted with a supposed theft on Hans Graftner’s farm, just outside of town. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon searching for a tractor that had turned up in the fields where Hans’s son, Lex, had left it after sneaking out the night before. For a quiet little town, things had been quite noisy that day. Trey now planned on getting home, finding Kylie and curling up on the couch with the movies he’d picked out at the video store earlier.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the ID. The number wasn’t one he recognized.
Great
. He answered the call, curtly.

“Trey?”

The voice was unfortunately familiar. His ex-wife’s sultry drawl came clearly through the phone. And it didn’t sound happy. He didn’t answer right away, wishing he hadn’t taken the call at all.

“Are you there?” she asked again.

“Yeah,” he said, after a moment of silence.

“I know you’re mad at me but I need your help.” Her voice was tearful and he found himself frowning. Sure, she needed his help. Why else would she be calling?

“I’m at the bus station in Goodacre. Can you come and pick me up?”

“What the hell are you calling me for?” he heard himself ask, before he could bite the words back.

“I need your help. I have the kids with me, Trey. I left him.”

Trey shut his eyes, willing himself to hang up the phone. Why now? Why did she have to show up now of all times? “Why can’t you call your parents?”

“Because they aren’t speaking to me. Mama is still mad.” She sniffled. “I wouldn’t have called but I don’t have anyone to turn to. He’s going to kill me, Trey.”

He cursed, wanting to tell her it served her right for hooking up with a rough edged, sonofabitch she’d worked with at a bar. He wanted to tell her to take a hike and call someone who cared. But the cop in him, along with their history growing up together, wouldn’t let him. Instead, he sighed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Kylie sat in her room, staring at the stars through the large front window. It was late, nearly one-thirty. She’d spent most of the evening downstairs with Faye, checking out the final invitation her friend had chosen for their wedding. They had watched a sitcom on television, made ice-cream for dessert and even cleaned up the kitchen for the night—and still no Trey. She kept telling herself not to be angry. They hadn’t carved their plans in stone, after all. Watching a video and dinner had merely been a suggestion. He was a busy man. He was the law in this town and he had to work long hours. Faye had drilled that into her head twenty times, earlier in the evening.

Still, something made her uneasy. Relationships weren’t her thing. She hadn’t had a very successful one yet. Generally, when a man didn’t call or show up, that wasn’t a good sign.

She leaned her head against the headboard and sighed. She’d gotten in too deep with him. She’d warned herself of that repeatedly, and yet all he’d had to do was look at her with those baby blues and she was toast. All her inhibitions about men seemed to fly right out the window. She had completely let her guard down. That scared her now, because he had baggage of his own and it was entirely possible that he’d thought things over and decided to back away from her. In fact, it was more than likely. He wasn’t the kind of guy that had to beg a woman for sex. Just from the looks he got when they’d walked around town the other night, she’d realized that Trey Callahan could have any woman he wanted. Why go with a pitiful, victimized freak, who was afraid of sex?

Her heart clenched a little. He had said he was willing to wait. It wasn’t likely he would say those words unless he meant them…would he? Or maybe he hadn’t thought enough before he’d spoken.

She was driving herself crazy, she decided. After all, she could call his cell phone. She had the number. Then she would know whether he was avoiding her or not. She sat up and reached for the phone beside the bed. Then she frowned. It was one-thirty in the morning, for crying out loud. She couldn’t just call him at that hour. What if he was sleeping?

Then he would be in his bed, she thought. And his Blazer would be parked out front—which it wasn’t. Unless he wasn’t sleeping in
his
bed. She abruptly set the phone back down. She couldn’t do it. She’d called Paul up once when he’d been with another woman. She’d heard the giggling in the background. She’d heard him tell the woman to be quiet. Then she’d hung up on him for good.

Hearing gravel stir outside, she stood up, careful not to be obvious about staring out the window. She peered through the side of the open curtain, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness outside. The police Blazer had pulled to a stop in front of the guesthouse. The lights were still on. She saw the driver’s door open and the SUV was illuminated. Immediately, her heart stopped. There was a woman in the passenger seat. A woman who appeared to have long, dark hair. She was talking, her hand now resting on Trey’s arm. He was listening, from what she could see. He wasn’t moving from the vehicle anyway.